Sea. Sophia, you forget yourself. (she shrinks back abash'd.)
Sir C. (smiling.) It is an amiable weakness in this interested age to forget yourself, and confined, I believe, to young ladies alone.
Soph. (provoked and roused.) I believe, at least, political baronets, tho' not very old, do but seldom fall into it. (archly.) And I know, papa, who this friend is that will so kindly take this office off your hands. Sir Crafty will name him to you by-and-bye: it is a man who does not forget himself.
Sea. (displeased.) What is the meaning of this, Sophia? I never saw you thus petulant before: I beg of you to retire; Sir Crafty and I must not be interrupted.
Soph. I will retire, my dear Sir—but oh! (taking her father's hand and pressing it.) but oh!—you know what I would say to you. (Exit, casting a significant look to Seabright as she goes out.)
Sea. (after a considerable pause.) Sir Crafty, there is much in what you say, and I believe you are perfectly disinterested in the advice you give me; but I don't know that I could justify myself to my own mind in refusing this office.
Sir C. There are few men less interested than myself; I will say it. Sir Anthony; I will say it proudly.—Pardon me, however, I do not presume to advise you; but hearing Lord Clacker, and the Marquis of Lackland, and some others, talking of your speech, and the usual race of such abilities, and so forth, many suggestions arose in my mind,
